It's My Birthday and I'll Cry if I Want to
by Channel D
Summary: Tony wishes that someone at NCIS would acknowledge his birthday. Little does he know that he's not alone in this. Humor; one-shot. Based on a very, very minor point raised in season seven.


**It's My Birthday (and I'll Cry if I Want to)**

**by channelD**

_written for_: no defendable reason

_rating_: K plus

_characters_: all of them

_genre_: humor

_**spoilers**_**: minor season 7 data, even though this is set before then**

_disclaimer: _I continue to own nothing of NCIS.

**_2004:_**

Tony marched into the squad room, happiness gushing out of every pore. It was a beautiful September day; cooler temperatures and lower humidity than was usually found in this 5th month of summer. To top it off, this was a special day: September 13; his birthday. From a small thermal container, he took out the prepackaged slice of cake he'd bought at the supermarket last night. He would have this with his lunch today. Tonight he would take himself out to the clubs and hopefully meet some lovely young thing who would like spending some quality time with a birthday boy. Smiling, he headed for the employee break room, with his precious slice of caramel-frosted cake (hidden in an opaque brown paper bag, with his name on it in large letters), which he would put in the refrigerator.

This would be his first birthday while at NCIS. Last year at this time, he'd been out with a recurring bout of tonsillitis. Not that he wanted anyone to make a big fuss over his birthday. Everyone had a birthday, although it must be NCIS tradition to not make a big deal over them. He couldn't remember having celebrated _anyone's_ birthday in the short time that he'd been there. Well, except for Fern Ossining in Accounting, who baked a few hundred cupcakes for her April birthday and handed them out. Fern loved to bake and had no one to bake for, she said. Then again, she also baked cookies or cupcakes for all the greater or lesser holidays. It had only been two weeks since the Labor Day cookies (sugar cookies in the shape of all sorts of workers).

But today was Tony's day! So wrapped up was he in the thought of his lovely day that he did not see his teammate before they collided at the refrigerator. "McGhoul!" he howled. "Could you not be in my way, please?"

"Sorry—sorry, Tony," Tim stammered. "I was just going to put something in the refrigerator. I didn't see you…"

"Why are you even _here?_ Don't you belong in Norfolk, a couple hours' drive from here?"

"Well, I, uh, Agent Gibbs, he, I'm still on the current case, and…"

Kate pushed in between them. "You boys! Must you stand there holding the refrigerator door open?! Everything will spoil!" She shoved a small thermal pack right onto the shelf that Tony and Tim had been aiming for, and walked out.

Tim's eyes narrowed as he looked at Tony. He moved faster, and got the last space on the shelf for his paper bag. With a faint smirk, followed by a slightly abashed look, Tim then moved away, leaving Tony to jam his paper bag into a tiny spot near the freezer.

"What do you have there, Kate?" Tim asked pleasantly as the three agents ate lunch at their desk.

"Oh…nothing, really," Kate replied. "Just some pastry I made this morning. It's nothing."

"Not like you to have lots of calories with your lunch salad, Katie-kins," Tony remarked.

"Don't call me that. I can treat myself once in a while, if I want to," she snapped. "McGee, you look like you have something good."

Tim smiled. "Chocolate cake with peppermint frosting. From a bakery on 8th Street. It's good."

Tony frowned, suspicious. Tim's idea of desert, when he had it, was similar to his own: a bag of chips or a candy bar. "Yeah, well, I…" his voice trailed off. Birthdays weren't a big deal at NCIS. Calling attention to oneself just wasn't done, unless one's name was Fern Ossining, and how many of those could there be?

Before he went clubbing tonight, Tony would go out and buy himself a present. Something he wanted, but didn't really need. If he _needed_ it, it wasn't truly a present. Some years his father remembered to send him something. Others, he didn't. Tony never counted on it. But it would be nice to have one person, just one person, wish him a 'Happy birthday'. That didn't seem like too much to ask.

Gibbs sent Tim to work with Abby in the lab on the latest case in the afternoon while Tony and Kate went out to interview witnesses. Tim was glad of the chance to see Abby today—well, any day was good for that, but today, on this beautiful end-of-summer day, it seemed like a gift from heaven. He was glad that the case wasn't wrapping up too quickly. He didn't want to make the long drive back to Norfolk tonight. Not tonight.

"Hey," he said by pleasant greeting, and she smiled and twirled for him. "New shirt?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. Tim was a guy who actually _noticed_ when she wore something new, or had her hair in a different fashion. "Do you like it?"

"Skeletons, dinosaurs, and monkeys on a baby blue background. What's not to like?"

"That was my feeling. I just wanted to wear something different for today. So I saw this in a shop window, and I tried it on—not in the window, you understand—and it screamed at me, _'Buy me! Buy me!' _So I did, and then I disconnected the speakers that were embedded in it, because you know if I walked around wearing something that kept screaming _'Buy me! Buy me!'_

I could be arrested in some areas, but anyway, you look happy today, Timmy!"

He grinned. He was never sure if half of what she said was true, but it didn't really matter. "Oh. I don't know. It's just another day."

She bit her lip, and looked down, as if she'd been expecting another answer. After a moment she said, "It might be special for someone, you know."

He blushed, and felt very much like the-one-who-didn't-quite-belong. "Agent Gibbs sent me down to give you a hand with the work on that recovered laptop," he said lamely. "I think the Director wants it like now."

"Spoiling a happy day with work," Abby grumbled. "All right; I suppose we must…"

When they had finished with the laptop around 6:30 p.m., Tim asked Abby if she'd like to go out to dinner with him, but she begged off. "I have something on with the nuns tonight, but I'll take a rain check, Timmy."

It wasn't what he'd hoped to hear, but he nodded and went out. Another night alone. Not that she always invited him to spend the night with her, but a little dinner and maybe a movie before they each went back to their dwellings would have been nice.

Sometimes, the life of an agent with a foot in each of two cities, could be very lonely.

The team was gone from the squad room when he got there. Only the team on the night shift was in place…plus the cleaning people, who were emptying waste baskets, dusting the desks, and running the vacuum cleaner. Tim sighed and picked up his back pack, and then reached into his desk drawer for his firearm and his badge. There he discovered something else. It was an envelope with his name on it.

He looked inside, and slowly smiled. His smile then became an ear-to-ear grin.

Gibbs hadn't left the building yet. He was down in autopsy, sharing a bottle of caffeinated sweet wine with his old friend, Ducky.

"I thank you for this, Jethro," said Ducky. "I know this is far from your usual drink, and it's kind of you to seek it out for me."

Gibbs shrugged. "No reason why you shouldn't have something you like."

"Would you like to come over to my house for dinner? The cook is making a nice pot roast. I promise you, mother won't be up late. One glass of this stuff and she'll be ready for bed. We could play cards."

"Thanks, Duck, but I think I'll pass."

"You have other plans?"

"No, I'll just work on my boat, and maybe read a book."

"As you wish. The invitation will stand if you change your mind." Ducky paused. "You know, you really should tell your team sometime. It might mean a lot to them."

"They're agents. They have to be tough."

"A little compassion goes a long way, Jethro. Tell them. You may not get another chance."

Gibbs only smiled, which Ducky knew meant that he'd think about it, but only that.

The next day, after lunch, Gibbs assembled his team. Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy were also called up to the squad room. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," Gibbs said. "Although I'm a day late with it, I've decided to follow Ducky's suggestion. So…Happy belated birthday, everyone!" He unveiled an elaborately decorated birthday cake from a local bakery; containers of mint chip, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream; and plates, forks and spoons. Chilled bottles of soda were also in sight.

Kate looked around in confusion. "Yesterday was…your birthday?" she asked Tony.

"Yeah. Don't tell me it was…"

"And mine, too," said Tim.

"Probies don't get birthdays," Tony sneered. "They get invention days."

Tim ignored that. "You, too, Abby?"

"Ditto," she said.

"Ditto, ditto," chimed in Ducky.

"My mother always said people stopped celebrating birthdays after a certain age," Jimmy remarked. "I'm surprised that people as old as you, Doctor Mallard and Tony and Abby, would—er, is that inappropriate to say?" Abby's response was to pour her _Caf-Pow! _over him.

Tim got out his cell phone. "I am calling the Guinness Book of World Records," he said. "This is an astonishing coincidence." He thought of the card Ducky had left for him, and marveled at the man's kindness. He hoped to return the favor when he got a chance.

Gibbs pulled the phone from his hand. "Let's just keep this to ourselves. We don't do much for birthdays here at NCIS. We should stay low-key."

"That still is weird," said Tony. "McGee! Go calculate the odds on that!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Have cake and ice cream, and then get back to work."

"Here's to another year with our friends," said Ducky, toasting with a cup of ginger ale. "May it find us healthier, wealthier, and happier."

"Amen," several chorused.

**_2005:_**

For Kate, there was not another birthday.

When September rolled around again, the others remembered this, and were sad. There was a new person at Kate's desk now: one Ziva David, on assignment with NCIS as liaison to the Mossad. Slowly, her team was getting comfortable with her, and with the new Director.

On September 13, Gibbs again produced a handsome birthday cake, and ice cream (different flavors, this year). Tony contributed bananas; and Tim, cherries and other toppings, for those who desired banana splits.

"Happy birthday, everyone!" Ducky cheered.

"This is everyone's birthday?" Ziva asked, astonished. They could see her mind working out if this was some strangeness in American culture.

"Uh…yeah, it is," said Tony. "I guess by that you mean that it isn't yours?"

"My birthday is in November."

"I'm not sure you're going to fit in here, Zee-vah."

"Ignore him," said Gibbs.

"I already do," she smiled.

Jenny caught Gibbs at the end of the work day. "A nice idea," she said to him. "Showing the team you care. Will you do the same for Ziva on her birthday in November?"

He frowned. "Gonna be hard to remember, Jen. I didn't pick her for my team…"

"I know. I foisted her on you. But you can adapt."

"I'm getting too old to have to remember new dates."

"And that's why you assembled a team with birthdays that all matched your own. Very devious of you. I'm amazed that you found so many people of talent fitting the bill."

"You work hard at the start to find the right people, and it pays off."

"Are you ever going to tell them that today is your birthday, too?"

"Someday, maybe…"

They had done their homework. Inside a house whose door was never locked, six people waited in the dark. At the appropriate moment, they'd leap out and yell…

And if they were lucky, no one would get shot. (They all wore vests, just in case.)

-END-


End file.
